


More Than Just Boom and Pow

by Gilove2dance



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Comic book studio AU, M/M, Minor Character Death, some smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-24 03:31:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4903948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gilove2dance/pseuds/Gilove2dance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joe Liebgott is an esteemed comic book artist and the leading graphics artist for the exciting WWII themed comic franchise, Currahee.  David Webster is an established novel author trying his hand at writing for the comic book industry.  On his first day he is paired with the newbie-wary Joe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to doncasterlyrock over on Tumblr for posting a post that got me thinking about this AU only to have them beg me to write it...and so I did. I love this AU and am terrified of it at the same time. But I'm excited for where this fic is going to take you.

Chapter One

 

Joe Liebgott took a deep breath and released it slowly as he leaned in and brought his hand down to the desk.  The comforting sound of pencil scratching against paper filled his ears as his hands darkened with graphite.  The tip of his pencil danced across the page making sure marks, drawing hard lines before softening to shade out a shadow.

 

Joe always felt the calmest when drawing.  All he had to think about was the figures taking shape before him.  Inking had it’s positives, but sketching, when it was still organic and evolving...that was his favourite part.  Gone were worries about bills, the mess of his apartment he never seems to have time to clean, the disappointment of his sister, and his mother’s...well, he didn’t want to think about that.  The familiar characters beckon him, begging him to tell their story, to share their pain.  And he was all to happy to oblige them.

 

“Hey Lieb! Newbies are here today.”

 

Joe barely paused to roll his eyes.  “And I should care why, Tab?” he replied.

 

“You know you are overdue to mentor a new person.  Winters is all about easing in newcomers.” Tab walked into the room and leaned against Joe’s desk, jostling his elbow.  Joe frowned up at him.

 

“So he should send them to layout so you can put them in charge of something that they can’t mess up.”

 

Talbert brought a hand up to clutch at his heart, throwing his head back.  “You wound me, Lieb.  Like a knife in the gut.”

 

“Ever with the dramatics.  Your gut is lower down there,” Joe shot back.  “Or they can put them with Christenson.  He’s nice.”

 

Talbert snorted.  “The higher ups aren’t stupid.  Chris does covers.  Covers sell books.  There’s no way they want someone messing that up.  Chris’ digital paintings are too epic to compete with.”

 

Joe had to concede to that.  Not that he’d admit it out loud.  “Yeah well, character drawing is just as important as the fuckin’ cover.”

 

“You keep telling yourself that, man,” smirked Talbert.  “You wanna know what I heard?”

 

“No. Go away.”  Joe turned back to his almost completed sketch.

 

“Oh, you are gonna want to know this; I got it from Grant.”  Joe paused.  Grant was a reliable source.  Talbert took his silence as a go ahead and continued.  “Word is that there is some bigshot author coming in to replace Alley.”

 

Joe looked up sharply.  “Moe’s leaving?  Since when?  Why?”

 

Tab had the good grace to look apologetic.  “He’s getting reshuffled.  After Smokey’s accident, they need someone with More.”

 

“So put the fuckin’ newbie with More!” shouted Joe.  “Christ, it’s not that hard to figure out.”

 

Tab shook his head.  “More’s too new still.  He can’t coach a new writer.  Switching from novel writing to comic book writing is hard.”

 

“Bullshit,” Joe muttered.  “I gotta go talk to Alley.”  He got up and brushed past Talbert.  “Thanks for the heads up.”

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

“Webster.  David Webster, right?” Speirs looked up distractedly from his computer.

 

“Yes, sir.  I just got back from New York.”  Webster shifted uncomfortably under the HR manager’s gaze.  “They told me to come see you…”

 

“Fine,” interrupted Speirs.  Webster knew immediately that this was a man he didn’t want to cross.  Actually, he was a bit confused as to why he was put in charge of people.

 

“Ron?” A blonde head appeared around the door.  “Have you selected who will be working the booth for Comic Con?”

 

“Yeah, Lip. Tell,” Speirs paused.  “Tell McClung, Heffron, and Ramirez they’re volunteering.”  That’s why, Webster decided.  He could handle organizing people.  The blonde man, Lip?, nodded and left with a quick smile.

 

“Alright.”  Speirs turned back to Webster.  “I’m going to pair you with Liebgott.  He’s our head comic artist.”  He paused again.  “But I wouldn’t celebrate too soon.  He doesn’t like new people.”

 

The smile dropped from Webster’s face and he swallowed thickly.  Dealing with headstrong people  was a skill he had never mastered.  Before he could turn to leave, another man entered the office.  He was tall and had a young looking face set with an eager-to-please expression common of those who were very new to the workforce.

 

“Who are you?” barked Speirs.

 

The new guy’s expression fell.  “Jones. Henry Jones.  I was wondering if I could lead the layout team meeting.”

 

“No.” Speirs turned back to looking at his computer.  “Have Malarkey lead it.  He’s experienced.”  Jones started to slink back.  “And take Webster to Liebgott’s office.”

 

Webster gave Jones a smile and they both left the room.  “Tough crowd,” commented Webster.

 

“Today’s the first day of my second week,” mumbled Jones.  “They hired me as a supervisor but keep giving work I’m supposed to do to more experienced people.”

 

“Aah,” replied Webster.  “The whole need experience to do the job but the only way to get the needed experience to do the job circle.”

 

Jones looked at Webster, stopping next to an office.  “Exactly! But Winters told me to report to Speirs and he isn’t giving me a shot at this.”

 

Webster frowned.  “You were hired though.  Maybe it’ll just take some time for them to get used to you.”

 

Jones grimaced.  “My uncle pulled some strings for me.  I replaced a guy who went on leave for medical reasons.  Most here don’t think I earned this spot.”

 

“Well, then you’ve got to fight this.  Go to Winters.  He’s chief editor.  He’s in charge of this whole thing.  Appeal to him.”

 

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try.”  Jones gave Webster a tight smile.  “Can you come with me?  It looks like Liebgott isn’t in his office right now.”

 

“Yeah, I can wait for you.”

 

“Great, this way.”  They started down the hallway again.

 

“So what’s the deal with Liebgott?  Speirs says he doesn’t work well with new people.”

 

“Yeah,” frowned Jones.  “But everyone else seems to really like him,  Apparently once you get on his good side, he’ll do anything for you.  Super loyal and funny and all that.  But right now he’s got an extra short temper due to some family issues."

  
“Yay for me,” sighed Webster as they came up to Winters’ office.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wednesdays are new comic book day so I thought it would be fitting to try and update on Wednesdays ^_^ Joe's part got a bit away from me as I just love writing him so darn much!

Chapter Two

 

“You’re a traitor, Alley,” called Joe as he left Alley’s office.

 

“Just followin’ orders, Joe.” Alley’s voice was laced with humour.

 

“Brown noser.” Joe sighed and ran a hand through his hair. It was going to be a long day.

 

“Liebgott.”

 

“Sir,” replied Joe automatically to that voice. He could have sworn Speirs almost smirked at his prompt response.

 

“I’ve sent our new writer to your office. Take care of him. That’s an order.”

 

Joe resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The military metaphors were always strong throughout the studio, a byproduct of working on a WWII comic franchise. He was waiting for a memo to say that supervisors were to be now referred to as officers and ranks given out among the others.

 

“Liebgott, he’s a competent writer.” Speirs glared at him.

 

Now Joe did roll his eyes. “You and I both know plenty of good writers that wash out of this industry.”

 

“Just do the job.” With that final note, Speirs turned and went down a side corridor.

 

“Fuck,” Joe muttered. He rubbed his knuckle over his lip. Might as well get this over with. He slowly shuffled down the hall.

 

“Hey Lieb.”

 

Joe turned and grinned. “Hey Grant. They saddle you with some baby too?”

 

Chuck Grant shrugged, his pale blue eyes twinkling. “I actually like having fresh faces down in marketing. They always have new ideas.”

 

Joe scoffed. “Damn you and your cheerful demeanor.”

 

“Ho ho. Big words there, Lieb,” chuckled Grant. Joe punched him in the arm good naturedly. “Tell me how it goes with your baby,” he said as they arrived at Joe’s office.

 

“Badly,” smirked Joe. He turned and entered the room. There was a man standing next to his desk, leafing through his personal portfolio sketchbook.

 

Joe’s eyes widened as he took in the man’s appearance. He had to be the new writer, his look screamed writer in the worst stereotypical way. Expensive brown shoes, blue slacks, a dark navy blazer over a crisp, white collared shirt. A skinny burgundy scarf was loosely wrapped around his neck carelessly. His handsome face was shadowed in scruff, emphasizing the startling blueness of his eyes. Eyes that crinkled when he smiled at Joe.

 

“Hello. Are you Joe?”

 

“Fuck,” breathed Joe and he immediately schooled his face into a scowl.

 

“Hi, um, I’m David Webster? I’m your-” the man, Webster, stammered, reaching out a hand in a greeting.

 

“Webster? So you’re the replacement I’ve got to take care of,” interrupted Joe. He watched as Webster seemed to mull over that statement before dropping his hand to his side with a shrug.

 

“If you want to look at it like that,” replied Webster. “I hope you don’t mind, I was taking a look at your work.”

 

Joe waved the apology away with a hand. “Yeah no, it makes sense. You’ve got to know what I can do artistically in case it affects your writing.” Webster nodded his head and opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Christ, that was a nice mouth. Joe frowned and stalked over to his desk and sat. Best to leave that line of thought. He picked up his pencil and pushed some papers around his desk until he found a ruined drawing, turning it over so he could doodle. “See anything you like?”

 

Webster let out a muffled noise that could only be described as a squawk and quickly looked around the room as if to find the source of the noise. Joe smirked. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. “In my sketchbook?” Joe raised an eyebrow as a blush coloured Webster’s cheeks. The view of his new office mate was definitely not a turn for the worse.

 

“Oh,” said Webster. “Right. Yes. There was a lot of really great pieces. All of them actually. But I really liked the abstract pieces.”

 

Joe snorted. He’d done those many years ago now. After art school. Of course Webster would pick out the only non-comic book pieces in there. Not a good sign. “So you are a writer.”

 

Webster nodded and moved to sit down at the now empty desk opposite Joe’s. Joe looked down at what he was doodling absentmindedly and quickly turned the paper over before Webster could see the reflection of his eyes on the page. “What have you written?”

 

“I used to write articles for the Wall Street Journal and I’ve written two books, one about sharks and the other...well,” Webster smiled, “the other was what got me the job. It’s about World War II.”

 

“You’re a journalist?” Joe was flabbergasted. “What the hell are you doing here?”

 

A look of discomfort played across Webster’s face. “I felt like something was missing from my writing...that visual element.”

 

“So go into screenwriting,” muttered Joe irritably. “Who are your favourite writers?”

 

Webster sighed. “It’s hard to narrow it down but I can say with confidence that the works of the Bronte sisters, Byron, and Hemingway inspire me.”

 

Joe stared at him in disbelief. “Byron? Hemingway? You want to write comic books and you are looking to Hemingway for inspiration?” He stood up and waved his arm around the office. “You are in a fucking comic book studio and you don’t even mention the genius writing of Frank Miller? Kerby? Alan Moore? Or even fucking Stan Lee, if you want to go for the most name dropped person in comics? What the fuck are you doing here? And don’t give me that bullshit about visual elements missing from your writing.”

 

Webster’s mouth was open in shock, only infuriating Joe more. “Christ. You’ve got a lot to learn, writer boy. You have no idea what we’ve been through. How hard it is to be taken seriously in the real world when you say you work in comics. And don’t even get me started at the in industry problems.

 

“Stupid fanboys and so called industry experts hatin’ on Thor being a woman and the fuckin’ backlash of the Falcon taking over as Cap is enough to make you want to scream with the idiocy of humanity.” Joe knew he was yelling now and Webster was staring at him in equal parts concerned and chastised.

 

Joe paused and tried counting in his head. He let out an exhale and glared at Webster. “If you are sexist, racist, prejudice, or homophobic, get the hell out of here now so I don’t have to punch that pretty face later.”

 

Webster huffed out a laugh. “Now that you don’t have to worry about.”

 

“Good.” Joe nodded his head. “Okay. Right. I’m throwing you right in. Sink or swim, it don’t affect me. I don’t care if you stick around or run screamin’ back to New York.” He shuffled more papers around on his desk. “So Currahee is the comic series I am working on.”

 

“World War II paratroopers,” Webster prompted.

 

“Calm down, writer boy. Nobody likes a teacher’s pet,” Joe scowled. The face Webster made could have belonged on a middle school playground. “So we are currently in Albourne, training for the Normandy invasion. I’m sure you are relatively up to date on your war history but you gotta know the paratroopers timeline inside out and backwards. We focus mostly on the 101st, but there is a side story at the moment involving some boys from the 87th.”

 

Webster was now scribbling furiously on a little notepad. Joe finally found the paper he was looking for. “Here is the code to download the entire series so far on the app. Get the app, read the books.” Joe waited until Webster looked up at him. “You gotta know the characters first. I want you to do a write up for a two page spread about the medic bleachin’ his hair white and the C.O. finding out. Come back when you are done.”

 

He sat down and pushed aside the mess of papers to make room to finish his last sketch. He had work to do. Web could figure this out on his own.

 

~*~*~*~*~

  
  


Webster felt like he had a lump in his stomach. He guessed that everyone was right. Joe did not like new people. Especially if they weren’t well versed in comic book history. But to be kicked out of his new office? Where was he supposed to go? So much for those thoughts about how attractive Joe was...with an attitude like that? He made it to the front entrance of the building before he decided to stop. He was a grown man. He should be allowed to work in his own office.

 

He turned around and made his way back up to the second floor. Webster paused and cursed under his breath. He couldn’t remember where to go. Continuing down the main hallway, Webster picked a random side corridor and turned down it. He saw an open door on the left and took a chance upon entered it.

 

Webster had thought Joe’s office had been a mess with papers, pencils, charcoal, and anatomy books. It was as clean as a hospital compared to the disarray that greeted him here. Every inch of surface space was covered in toys, action figures, picture frames of signed comic books, computer parts, wires, precarious towers of books, and sweaters. Lots of sweaters. Music was emanating from the back corner, some tune that seemed like a mix of 90s pop and current crap that was overplayed on the radio these days.

 

“Hi there.”

 

Webster jumped and looked to see one of the sweaters move. The guy lifted up his head from the keyboard it was resting on. He pulled down his hood, revealing big ears and yanked the earbuds out from them.

 

“I’m Hoobler, but you can call me Hoob.” The guy was smiling a wide grin and reached a hand out to Webster.

 

Webster sighed gratefully and shook his hand. “Finally, a friendly face.”

 

Hoobler chuckled. “Let me guess, you’ve dealt with Speirs and...Cobb?”

 

“One Joe Liebgott.” Webster shook his head.

 

“Lieb? Really?” Hoobler looked puzzled. His face cleared suddenly. “You are the new guy to replace Alley. Of course. Lieb hates newbies.”

 

“Yeah, what’s up with that? Oh I’m Webster, by the way. David Webster.”

 

“Good to meet ya, Web,” replied Hoobler. “Yeah, don’t mind Lieb. He’ll warm up to you. He just...he doesn’t really trust people much.”

 

“So he’s always been like this?”

 

“Pretty much.” Hoobler picked up a stress ball in the shape of a brain and started throwing it in the air and catching it one handed. “He is very protective of three things. His work, his friends, and his mother. You come in, a threat to his work environment, he’s gonna be a bit hostile. Until you prove yourself.”

 

“Yeah,” Webster nodded. “He assigned me a writing assignment. Like I’m back in high school again.”

 

Hoobler chuckled. “He did? Awesome! Well, show him what you got. I should also introduce you to Chuck and Tab. They are his best friends. And you’ve met me now so that’s a start. We’ll all like you so we can help soften him up to you.”

 

“And his mother? Should I call her up and ask for advice too?” Webster smiled crookedly.

 

Hoobler hesitated. “Actually, you should avoid mentioning family altogether. At least for now.”

 

“Well that doesn’t sound good.”

 

“Lieb’s just kind of a private person when it comes to family...he’s going through a rough patch right now. So if you want on his good side, it’s best just to not say anything.”

 

Webster patted Hoobler’s shoulder. “Thanks, Hoob. I owe you one. Is there a girlfriend? Or should I avoid that topic as well?”

 

Hoobler let out a laugh. “A girlfriend? Oh no, definitely not. I don’t think he’s ever gone out with a girl.”

 

“Why not? He’s young, attractive…” Webster trailed off with a cough.

 

“And very gay,” chuckled Hoobler. “But there’s no boyfriend right now either. Hasn’t been one in a while actually.”

 

“Oh.” Webster was a bit thrown. “Okay. Good to know.”

 

Hoobler gave him a sly grin. “Oh? ‘Good to know’, huh? Well then.”

 

Webster bit his lip and looked down. “No, no. Not a good idea. We are working together and all.  I just want us to be able to get along.” Hoobler gave him a look but let him drop the subject. “So what do you do here?” He gestured to the clutter filled room.

 

“Ah,” replied Hoobler happily. “Welcome to the tech room. I am in charge of mobile development and website maintenance and my buddy Petty is the IT guy. He’s not around much as there is always someone calling him with some disaster.”

 

“Wow. Yes, tech stuff is not my area of expertise. Give me an old school typewriter any day,” Webster said.

 

“Typewriter? Cool! A form of tech though, so don’t hate on the tech,” laughed Hoobler. “You want to hang here to work on your assignment? We could grab lunch before you have to go back to Lieb’s evil clutches?”

 

Webster smiled and finally felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. “That sounds great, Hoob.”

 

 


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And today is not Wednesday...whoops...and once again, Joe's part is longer then Web's...because...well...I love Joe so much...just...yeah.

Chapter Three

 

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Chuck.”

 

“What? It’s good stuff.” Grant shrugged.

 

Joe glared at him. “Not for comic books. There’s hardly anything in here I can actually use.”

 

Grant rolled his eyes. “Lieb, this is the first time he’s written for a comic book. He wasn’t going to get it right on the first try. Did you even show him any past manuscripts?”

 

Joe shifted uncomfortably.

 

“Seriously? You just threw him into writing without showing him anything and then you have the balls to complain to me about it?” Grant was using his adult this-is-your-responsibility voice. “You have to do this right. You have to mentor him. Don’t do it half-assed and then expect perfect results.”

 

Joe groaned and rubbed his lower lip with his knuckle. “Fuck. As if I don’t have enough on my plate already.”

 

“If you just told Winters about your mother, I’m sure he would-”

 

“No,” interrupted Joe. “I don’t want people knowing. I don’t want their sympathy. You are the only person other than my sister that knows.”

 

Grant sighed. “But you still have to show Webster how he went wrong so he can learn.”

 

“Fine, whatever.” Joe stood up, grabbing Web’s paper from Grant. “Thanks for nothing, Chuck.”

 

“Any time,” called Grant as Joe left the room.

 

Joe slowly ambled back to his office, wondering if Web would be back from lunch. He was genuinely surprised that Web hadn’t bothered to do research into how to write for a comic book. He was obviously a college boy. Maybe even ivy league if he had to guess from his appearance and language. Why hadn’t he done any research? That meant he was coming into this thinking it would be easy or else he wasn’t taking this seriously. He was going to fuck up Joe’s characters, his work, and the only place in his life he was happy with.

 

Turning into his office, Joe was pleased to see that Web was back from lunch. He threw the papers onto Web’s desk with a satisfying slap.

 

“This is crap.”

 

Webster opened his mouth with a noise of protest. Joe turned his back on him and pulled out a large piece of storyboarding paper from the the bookcase beside his desk. He walked over to the corkboard, pulled off the current storyboard, and pinned up the fresh one. He stalked back over to his desk, grabbed a piece of charcoal before violently ripping the pages out of a shocked Webster’s grip.

 

“Comic book writing is more than just ‘boom’ and ‘pow’. This is completely unusable and you should have taken the time to look into this job before you even applied, but especially afterwards.” Joe leaned forwards onto Webster’s desk. “This is now your job. There is a very short learning period. If you affect my work, I will get your ass fired.” He stood back up. “Now why is everything you wrote useless?”

 

“Umm,” Webster stammered. “I don’t know?” Joe glared at him.

 

“Let me read this out to the class,” snarked Joe. “‘The air is hot and humid, sitting like a blanket draped over their shoulders.’ That’s your first sentence. How in the hell am I supposed to draw that? How do I visually represent that eloquent sentence?”

 

Joe moved back over to the storyboard and brought the charcoal up to the page. He drew a line to section off a box and scribbled in the sentence. He then quickly sketched out a sun beaming down on a scene of military camp with ordered rows of barracks.

 

“So here I’m assuming some stuff of where this is taking place and such since you didn’t bother to tell me where it is.” Joe pointed to the textbox. “Now, I can put the whole blanket sentence in here. But only 15% of our readers will actually read it. We need to tell our stories through the pictures and dialogue bubbles. We only use these if absolutely necessary.”

 

He looked over at Webster who slowly nodded. Joe turned back to the pages. “Roe is our medic character and you call him ‘Eugene’ throughout. Only Babe is gonna call him ‘Gene’ and that’s not ‘til we get to Bastogne which is about a year or two from now.”

 

“I haven’t read all the past issues yet,” jumped in Webster. He held up his phone. “I did download all of them though.”

 

“Gold star,” intoned Joe sarcastically. “Moving on. ‘Eugene wipes a bead of sweat from his forehead as he stares down at the stark white bottle in his hand.” Joe moved to the next panel and sketched out the Doc Roe figure from a low angle. He included one hand on his brow and the other holding a bottle. He quickly scribbled in the design of the Toccoa PT shirt and dogtags hanging around his neck. Joe turned back to Webster. “How many panels do I have left?”

 

Webster scanned the storyboard. “Twelve?”

 

“Just about. We should combine and split panels to keep it visually interesting and help with flow. So I could split a couple and give us fourteen. But we are only on the second sentence.” Joe waved the paper. “Your pace is too slow.”

 

They continued on, Joe sketching and periodically stopping to show Web what went wrong in his manuscript. Throughout, Web stayed silent, only speaking to answer Joe’s questions.

 

Joe finally let the charcoal down from the storyboard. “See? We were only given a two page spread and we are in the middle of Sobel’s reaction.” He walked over to a filing cabinet, deposited the charcoal on the top and wiped his smudged fingers on his jeans, leaving black streaks. He opened the middle drawer and pulled out a binder from the back.

 

“Here are Alley’s manuscripts from the first three issues. Read ‘em as you read the actual comic on the app. Study how he writes per panel, what techniques he uses to create anomalies in the panel format.” Webster took the binder. “Do you want a new scenario or do you want to try this one again?” Joe studied Web’s face, hoping against hope he would answer the right way.

 

Webster frowned and smoothed a hand across the binder. “Give me a new one.”

 

Joe raised his eyebrows in surprise and relief. “Alright. Another deleted scene we cut was Skinny offering to sell watches on the plane ride over to the jump into Normandy on D-Day. One page spread. Bring it to me tomorrow.”

 

Webster stood and collected his bag from the floor. Joe went back to his seat and got settled in to put in a couple more hours work since his afternoon was gone. “Oh, and Web?” he called as Webster got to the door. “Your imagery is pretty good. That’s helpful.” He turned back to his drawing but not before he saw the smile breakout across Web’s face. He waited until he heard Web’s footsteps disappear in the distance and then dropped his head down onto his desk.

 

“Fuck.”

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

“How was your first day?”

 

Webster stopped and backed up a few steps to look into one of the offices he just passed. He saw Jones sitting behind his desk.  “Well, you were right about Joe,” he replied as he entered the room.

 

“Oh? How so?” Jones looked concerned as he stood up and moved around his desk to lean against it, facing Webster.

 

“Not the friendliest to newcomers.”

 

Jones looked down a his feet. “So it’s not just me, that’s a relief.”

 

“What exactly did he do when he first met you?” asked Webster curiously.

 

“Well,” Jones said sheepishly.  “He told me that Malarkey was a supervisor that recently was promoted and when I mentioned it to Speirs, I got called out on it and was made to look a bit of a fool.”

 

“Not so bad then.”

 

“I guess. Why? What did he do to you?”

 

“Oh, I just couldn’t do anything up to his standards today,” sighed Webster.  “I mean, I know I don’t know much about comics but I do now about writing.  He didn’t have to treat me like a child.”

 

“I heard he thinks himself as quite the protege and that the franchise would crumble if he were ever to leave,” scoffed Jones.

 

Webster frowned.  “Oh no, I quite agree with that.  He is a genius.  He was just quickly sketching a storyboard today and the drawings were…” Webster paused, looking for the right words to describe the work he saw.  “Phenomenal.  Just quick sketches but they managed to portray such emotion and description.  He really is a master at his craft.”

 

Jones looked a little disgruntled like a child who had his favourite toy taken away from him.  “So you like him?”

 

“Well, I mean, I think working with him will be a bit trying at first but I think we’ll be able to produce some really good stuff. Professionally, I mean,” rambled Webster, his cheeks getting warm.  “But as a person? I mean, I don’t know if I can say right now what I think because he’s not in the greatest of moods and I’m sure that later on we will get along just fine...perhaps…”

 

Jones gave him a small disappointed smile.  “I see.  But maybe some time this week, when you are tired of him, maybe you’d like to come out for a drink with me?”

 

“As in…” Webster trailed off, eyes wide.  He hadn’t really thought Jones would be interested. And beside, workplace romances never worked out.  At least that what he must keep telling himself as Joe’s smirk enters his mind.  He shook himself out of it as Jones answered.

 

“As in two guys getting a drink and getting to know each other a little better.”  Jones raised an eyebrow.

 

Webster nodded.  “Okay, can I get back to you on that? I have a little too much on plate right now.”  He raised his hand that had a firm grip on the binder Joe gave him.  “I’ve got a lot of research and prep for Joe to do tonight.” He coughed and knew that his face was probably a brilliant shade of red.  “For work tomorrow, for a scene.”

 

“I get it,” Jones mumbled and he got up to move back around his desk.  “Let me know when you have some time.”

 

“Right,” agreed Webster and he quickly left the office.  There was just too much to think about right now.  He decided tonight’s focus would solely be on getting caught up with Currahee and his writing assignment.  An assignment? He wasn’t in school any more. Webster sighed.

 

 


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One day I will write more in Web's PoV then Joe's but today is not that day...sorry for the week wait for this one...I write while I substitute teach in the prep period, lunches, and if I am just supervising work periods but work has been sparse lately...hopefully I'll get more next week!!

Chapter Four

Joe let out a groan as he chucked his keys into the bowl on the table he had placed to the left of the door for that reason.  Renee complained about it constantly, saying that she tripped over it more times than not.  He slunk into the kitchen and eyed the stack of dishes piled high in the sink.  He really should wash those tonight before the spill over on the counter spilled over onto the floor.  He reached into his bag and pulled out his lunch containers, adding them to the pile.  He watched them slide down onto the counter and fall to the ground.

“Shit,” he growled and kicked the tupperware.  He rubbed his face with his hands before turning to leave the kitchen.

Making his way into the living room, Joe eyed the mountain of laundry on the floor by the sofa.  The clean laundry lay on the sofa, unfolded. He cursed and pulled out a sweater whose sleeve was currently resting in the grease of an open pizza box, adding it to the dirty laundry pile.

Suddenly, the Batman Animated series theme song rung out into the room and Joe hastily pulled his phone out of his back pocket of his jeans.  He answered it without looking at the ID.  “Yep?”

“Joseph, it’s Hannah.”

He rolled his eyes and bit back a curse.  “Hey sis.  What do you want?”

“Listen, I found a really great opening job for you at Mark’s work at the bank.  They aren’t looking for much experience so I think you’d-”

“Fuck, Hannah.  I already have a job,” growled Joe.

“Watch your language. What would mom say if she heard that?”

“I already have a job,” he bit out.

“Drawing comic books is a hobby.  Hardly respectable and isn’t exactly lucrative.  You are barely keeping afloat, Joseph.”

Joe made a fist with his free hand and lightly tapped the side of his head in frustration.  “Don’t you start with that.  Medical bills aren’t exactly cheap.”

“We agreed since Mark and I have to save for Daniel’s college fund that you would take care of the medical bills.”

“And I am,” yelled Joe.

“Barely.” Joe heard his sister snort.  “Your place is a pigsty.  Not exactly fit for entertaining company.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Joe’s grip on his phone was tight as his hands clenched in anger.

“You just haven’t met the right girl. If you actually tried-”

He wrenched the phone away from his ear and jammed his finger onto the “end call” button, cutting off his sister’s tirade.  It was always the same conversation with her. Job, bills, and then the girlfriend.  He was sick of it.  Sick and tired.

Joe turned his phone on silent and left it on the coffee table between the pizza box and an old chinese takeout carton.  He walked down the hall and threw his bag into the doorway on the left which opened into a messy bedroom that was covered in piles of comics and clothes.  He pulled off his graphic t-shirt over his head and riffled through a couple of mounds of clothes before pulling out a wrinkled button down shirt.  He shrugged it on, quickly doing up all the buttons and trying to unsuccessfully smooth out some of the wrinkles on his front.

Leaving his room, Joe continued down the hall to the next room.  He quietly opened the door, entered, and carefully shut the door behind him.  He surveyed the dimly lit, clean room, it’s only furniture being the bed, a dresser, and several softly beeping monitoring machines.  Renee waved to him and got up from where she was seated beside the bed.

“Hello Joe.  How was your day?” Her voice was soft and calming, one of the many reasons why he’d hired her.

“Alright.  Sorry I’m late. I got held up at work because I had to train a new guy.” Joe tried to keep his voice down.  He glanced over at the bed.  “How was today?”

“Good,” she replied.  “She managed to eat her whole dinner.”

“Is that right?” Joe moved down over to the bed.

“I have lung cancer, Joseph. I am not a child,” rasped the voice of the woman lying in the bed.  Her head was wrapped in a silk scarf, matching her pyjama top that hung on much too thin shoulders.  She took a shuddering breath and reached up a skeletal hand to adjust the tube of the respirator.

“Sorry, Ma. Just with all the troublemaking you cause, I got confused for a second.” Joe sat down in the chair and took her hand in both of his.

“I think you are mistaking me for you,” she scolded.

Joe smiled at her and pushed a monitor stand back slightly so the beeping wouldn’t be as loud.

“Joe?” called over Renee.  “Are you good? I’m going to leave now that Josephine has taken her medication.”

“Yeah, thanks Renee. I’ll see ya tomorrow,” he replied.

“Tell me about your day.  You said something about a new guy?” Joe’s mother may be bedridden but her eyes still sparkled with life and a bit of a mischievous glint that he remembered so well from a childhood full of love and laughter.

“You don’t want to hear about my boring day,” Joe said, grinning.

Josephine shot him a disapproving look.  “My day consisted of looking at these four damn boring walls. Tell me.”

“Alright, alright,” Joe chuckled and softly stroked the back of her hand.  “All the new recruits started today.  I got a fairly free morning. Got most of the Aldbourne training sequences mapped out.”

“Good. And the new guy?”

“I’m getting there, ma. Hold your horses.” Joe rolled his eyes.  “Yes, there’s a new guy I have to work with. A writer.”

“What’s happening to James?”

“Alley’s on the B storyline right now.”

Joe’s mom had always expressed an interest in knowing the details of his life.  School friends, soccer teammates, and now, co-workers.

“So this new guy?” she prompted.

“Well,” he started.  “He’s some journalist from New York who knows nothing about comics.  He likes literature from the dark ages and while he showed some potential to be okay at this, he still didn’t bother to find out how to do the job before coming in today.”

“Shows some potential? Wow,” crooned Josephine.  “Those are big words coming from you.”

Joe felt his cheeks warm and he scowled. “That’s what you took away from that? Web’s got a long way to go before I will tolerate his presence.”

“Web?”

“His full name is David Webster.” He paused.  “And don’t read into-”

“A nickname already?” she interrupted him. “Really? And how cute is he?”

Joe groaned and dropped his head onto the side of the bed.  “I should just leave you here alone with your four walls of boredom.”

But it was worth it to hear her laugh.

~*~*~*~*~

Webster heaved a weary sigh as he dumped the heavy binder on his kitchen counter.  He dropped his phone on top before letting his bag drop to the floor.  Opening up the fridge door, Webster grabbed a beer and cracked open the cap on the countertop before throwing it in the garbage.  He took a deep swig of the beer, leaning back against the fridge as he stared at the binder and his phone.

He had been overwhelmed today and it had been his own fault.  Webster shouldn’t have assumed that comic book writing would be the same as writing a novel.  He was embarrassed. Writing was his thing and he had botched it up terribly.  He hadn’t messed up a writing assignment this badly since grade 11 in high school.

Pushing off the fridge, Webster collected the binder and moved to the living room, beer still in hand.  He got himself situated on the sofa, opened up the 5-O-Sink app, selected the first issue of Currahee, and opened up the binder.  He scanned the first page of the comic and then read through the first page in the binder.  He immediately saw what he did wrong that afternoon.

“Damn it,” he whispered. No wonder Joe had been mad at him. He would be mad at him too. He was annoyed at himself. A little bit of research and he would have saved himself a world of embarrassment.

He kept reading and only paused to go get his laptop to start taking his own notes for reference. This comic book was good.  He was filled with a sense of excitement that had been lacking in his professional career for a while. This comic book wasn’t just entertaining, it was steeped in the responsibility of telling the story of these men in a historically accurate manner. The care and dedication of the team was evident in every single panel.

Webster smiled.  This would fill the void. This is what he’d been seeking. To be a part of a team that was committed to excellence. As much as Joe seemed to not like him, he was obviously in love with his work. While all the pages were beautifully drawn, there was a little extra something to Joe’s panels that breathed life into the characters. The image of Joe sketching on the storyboard from earlier coloured his mind. The way his hands gripped the charcoal as they flew across the board with precision and skill.

His phone buzzed, startling him out of his thoughts.  Thoughts he really, really shouldn’t be entertaining anyway, he scolded himself.

“Hello?”

“Good evening, Kenyon. How are you?”

Webster closed his eyes.  “Very busy, mother, what can I do for you?”

“Are you busy? Did you accept the remote job for the Journal?”

“No, mother,” he sighed. “I quit being a journalist. We discussed this. At great length.”

“I just think it would be good to still have ties in the industry for when you come back.”

“I’m not coming back, mother,” implored Webster.  “I’ve been here a week. I already have a job that seems perfect. I’ve met some nice friendly people.” He almost laughed when he thought of Joe.  “And even if this doesn’t work out, I can still stay out here to write another book.  I like it out here, mother.”

He could hear his mother sniff haughtily through the receiver.  “In the west, Kenyon? You are hardly the same stock as the riffraff over there.”

“I am going to hang up now, mother. Goodbye.” Webster ended the call with a sigh. He and his mother had always had conflicting world views. She would have preferred to have seen him become a lawyer or a doctor. Easier to brag to her Hampton gal pals.  Even writing for the Wall Street Journal was a big enough accomplishment that she hadn’t complained as much of his becoming a writer, but now? A big step down on the social ladder in her eyes.

Rubbing his face with his hands, Webster paused to get his thoughts collected. He drained the rest of his beer and continued on reading Currahee, not bothering to spare another thought on New York, the Journal, or his mother.

He worked his way through the comics, devouring each issue.  He kept making notes of the characters, settings, and events.  The next time he looked at the clock, Webster groaned as he saw it was 2am.  He really needed to get some sleep but he still had to finish his assignment.  He wanted to do it right. He wanted Joe to be...well, less annoyed with his work tomorrow.

**  
**So he sighed and opened up his laptop to a new document and started to write.  Sleep wasn’t necessary right now.  Doing this right was.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I am posting every two weeks...Sorry!! Life is busy...in a strange turn of events, Web's part is pretty much the same length as Lieb's this time! Woot!

Chapter Five

 

Joe was having a good morning.  He woke up before his alarm went off, feeling rested for once. There was just enough cereal left in the box for breakfast. His ma woke up to have a conversation with him. And he ran into Tab on the way to work on the bus.

 

“Seriously?” Tab shook his head.

 

“Thank you,” Joe exclaimed.  “Grant was decidedly unsympathetic.”

 

“Let me guess. He used the responsibility voice?”

 

“Yep. Tried to pin it on me too. Fuckin’ Grant and his no sympathy for dealing with newbies.”

 

“So what are you going to do?”

 

Joe sighed as they got off the bus.  “See how today goes, I guess.  If it’s a mess, I’ll go to Lip to see if there is like a training thing he can go to or something cause I’m not a writer.  I shouldn’t have to train him in the basics.” They entered the building and started climbing the stairs.  “I just don’t want a weak writer bringing down the franchise.”

 

“Yeah, I hear ya. You going to comic con?” Tab paused at the door to his office.

 

“Only if 5-O-Sink sends me. I don’t have the cash for it,” Joe said regretfully.

 

“What about going to Bastogne Pub this Friday?”

 

Joe slapped a hand on Tab’s shoulder and shook it roughly.  “Now that I can do.  Especially if you pick up my tab.” He smirked.

 

“Ha ha,” intoned Tab drily. “Like you haven’t used that pun a million times before. I hope your newbie sucks today.”

 

“Fuck off,” laughed Joe and he continued on down the hall. He turned into his office and saw Web already seated at his desk. The binder was back and that caused him to pause.

 

“Good morning, Joe.”

 

Joe could tell he was nervous. Good. Joe narrowed his eyes. “You know, you can keep the binder for longer. Study up on it.” Web held out a piece of paper. Joe took it and glanced at it.

 

“Skinny’s watch selling scene,” said Webster.

 

Joe glared at him to watch him squirm and dumped his bag on his desk. He found a new storyboard sheet and tacked it up on the board. He then read through the page. His eyebrows rose. Well then. Someone studied up last night.

 

Unlike the day before, Joe sketched silently. He could feel Web’s eyes on him and tried not to smirk. Let him stew and wonder if Joe was annoyed or okay with the script. Joe had to admit that he was slightly impressed. It had taken Alley a couple of months to get to where this piece of writing was. All the cues were there, it was full of dialogue and had nice description of actions. And it was all short enough to fit in one page.

 

“So,” said Joe suddenly and he quickly turned around when he heard Web jump. “This is better than yesterday’s stuff.” He frowned. “Though it would be hard to be worse than yesterday’s stuff.”

 

Web snorted. “Well the stuff you gave me last night helped out a lot.”

 

“I’ll bet,” muttered Joe. “Okay, so it fits into the one page spread.” He rolled his eyes. “Get up here, take a look. Is it what you imagined, Mr. I-was-missing-the-visual-element-of-my-writing?”

 

Webster got up and moved closer. Joe watched carefully as he scanned each panel. Web nodded. “Yeah, these look awesome.”

 

Joe sighed. “No, writer boy. That’s not how this works. You get to give feedback and give suggestions and I get to agree or shoot them down. It’s a collaborative process.”

 

Webster paused and stared at the board again but for longer.  “Okay, then I think this panel needs to switch the bubbles around so this one is read first.” He pointed to the third panel. “This one,” he picked out the fourth panel, “has too many words, I need to cut that down.”

 

Joe allowed himself to smile. “Good. You do pick this stuff up fast, don’t you?” Webster turned his very blue gaze on him. Joe was caught. He couldn’t look away. Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, fuck. He was breathing a little too quickly and he couldn’t help his gaze from dropping to Web’s slightly parted mouth.

 

Nope. Joe quickly turned to the storyboard and made some notes. “These two panels could be combined so that it breaks it up a bit.”

 

“Yeah,” said Webster and Joe would almost swear that he sounded slightly breathless.

 

Well, this was going to be a problem.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

“I’m going for lunch,” said Webster, standing up. “Want anything? I’m going to the soup place down the street.” Joe stretched, his t-shirt riding up to reveal a thin strip of skin. Webster quickly averted his gaze to his bag, trying to find his wallet.

 

“Nah,” yawned Joe. “I brought my lunch. Don’t ask anyone else. You’ll end up getting fifteen other orders and you will be expected to be delivery boy every time.”

 

“Got it. Thanks.” Webster finally grabbed his wallet and walked out before he could say something stupid and set Joe off. This morning had been a complete turnaround from yesterday. He was extremely relieved. His pride had taken a major beating and it was assuring to see that he was able to bounce back.

 

Lost in his thoughts, he found himself outside of Jones’ office. Unlike the day before, Jones was standing at his desk, emptying a drawer into a box. “Moving to another office?”

 

Jones looked up at him. “Oh. David. Hello.”

 

Webster entered the room. “Am I going to have to learn a new route through the office to say hello?”

 

“Actually, I am leaving.” Jones kept his gaze on Webster.

 

“Leaving?”

 

“Yes. I’m moving up. Apparently, my uncle thinks I have enough experience that I can move to his paper company.”

 

“That’s great,” said Webster. “I’m sure you will be missed.”

 

Jones gave him a tight smile. “I highly doubt that. So? Have you thought about my invite for drinks this Friday?”

 

Webster hadn’t. He tried to tell himself that it was because he’d been distracted with work. It didn’t make sense. Jones was nice, handsome, and clearly interested. But the way Joe had looked at him this morning...he couldn’t get him out of his head.

 

“I’m sorry, Jones. I’m afraid I am going to have to decline,” Webster said regretfully.

 

Jones noded and a look of disappointment settled on his face. “I understand. Take care, David.”

 

That was a definite dismissal so Webster turned and left, almost running into Joe on the way out.

 

“Woah there, writer boy. Watch where you’re going.” Joe smirked at him.  They both started down the hall to the stairwell. “So Jones asked you out, huh? Playing hard to get?”

 

Webster snorted. He did not want to discuss this with Joe. “It’s really none of your business.”

 

“Sure it is,” replied Joe cheerfully. “There are no secrets on this floor, Web. Everyone knows everything.”

 

“That is not reassuring.”

 

“You’ll get used to it.”  They stopped at the top of the stairs. “But seriously, why’d you say no?”

 

“I’m just not interested in him. He’s, well, he’s not my type.”

 

“Oh? And what’s your type?” Joe asked curiously.  He was staring at Webster.

 

Webster took the first step down the stairs.  “He was just too boring.”

 

“Definitely,” Joe grinned.

 

“Also,” Webster paused. “I just don’t know if a workplace romance is a good idea.”

 

Joe scoffed. “Please, people make it work around here. You’ll see.”

 

Letting out a strangled cough, Webster started down the stairs. “Okay, I’ll see you after lunch.” He made his way to the next landing when Joe called down to him.

 

“Maybe you could come to the pub on Friday? With Tab, Hoob, Grant, Christenson and me?”

 

Webster stopped and leaned over the stair rail, looking up at Joe. Joe wasn’t looking at him; he was leaning on the rail and staring at the opposite wall.  “Yeah, that sounds like a good time.”

 

Joe nodded and finally dropped his gaze to Webster. “You know, if I’m not sick of you by then.”

 

“Who says it won’t be me who’s sick of you?”

 

Joe’s grin turned sly.  “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”  He turned and disappeared from view.  Webster smiled, starting down the stairs again.  Drinks with the boys and Joe. Now he didn’t need to think on that.

  
Not that he’d tell Joe that.  Not even when Joe gave him a real smile when he chucked a king sized Hershey bar onto his workstation after lunch.


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

 

“So, Web,” Joe leaned forwards so he was in Webster’s space, “what do you think of our little watering hole?”

 

“It’s...quaint.” Webster’s mouth held the beginnings of a smirk.

 

Joe laughed and clapped a hand to Web’s shoulder. “Alright, writer boy. So it’s not some swanky New York club, but we got a swell dartboard, good beer, and even better company.” He winked and almost preened at the blush colouring Web’s cheeks.

 

“Well, it does have a nice dartboard setup,” Webster replied.

 

That surprised a laugh out of Joe. It had taken a few days but it seemed that Web did have some kind of a backbone. They’d already fallen into a pattern during the week. Any nervousness Web had had about expressing his opinion had fully disappeared and they cheerfully argued about every single panel of the comic. Joe was loathe to admit that it was working very well. Any reservations he had had about the storytelling suffering was a fleeting thought of the past. Web actually had won some of their debates about actions and figure poses.

 

“So on Monday we have to start looking at the cow fence scene,” Webster said and Joe let out a long suffering sigh.

 

“No, no,” Tab jumped in. “No chop shop talk in the pub. It’s a rule.”

 

“A rule Talbert takes very seriously,” called over Christenson from the booth where he and Grant were sitting together across from Hoobler. Everyone chuckled as Tab shook his head and took a long drag of his beer.

 

“Better watch yourself, Web,” laughed Joe. “Tab’ll end up taping that pretty mouth shut.” He got up and moved to the booth beside Hoob, pushing him further into the booth. Tab slid into the edge of the seat beside Chris and Grant. Webster was still sitting at the bar, looking over at them. Joe rolled his eyes and patted the space beside him. Web, with a look of uncertainty on his face, gingerly settled down, his side pressed carefully against Joe.

 

The six of them chatted and drank. After a quick exchange and comparison of rules, Joe, Web, and Hoob took on the others in a dart game.

 

“We need stakes,” demanded Joe. “Pack of smokes?”

 

“Oh, I don’t-” Web started.

 

“Calm down, writer boy.” Joe waved him off. “Not really a pack of smokes.”

 

“Joe’s trying to quit,” said Grant. “So to help him, we have these for when the cravings get bad so he doesn’t relapse.” He pulled out a thin box of Popeye candy cigarettes.

 

“I don’t have any of those.”

 

Joe draped an arm around Web’s shoulders. “We’d better not lose then.”

 

“No pressure,” grinned Web.

 

A couple hours later found Joe happily munching on a Popeye candy stick. He’d managed to needle out the location of Web’s apartment. When he’d realized it was on the way to his place, he started walking with Web back.

 

“So you were right about Miss Marvel,” said Web.

 

Joe snorted. “Of course I am. Best teenage superhero ever.”

 

“She’s definitely got spunk.”

 

“Spunk? Who even uses that word any more?”

 

“Well, apparently I do.”

 

“Whatever, writer boy.”

 

Webster paused at the walkway to a tall building. Joe stopped and looked at him. He looked nervous. “So, umm, this is me.” He pointed to the building. Joe nodded and then leaned forwards.

 

Web’s lips were soft and warm against his and any plan of making this kiss short - which, let’s face it, Joe didn’t exactly plan this - dissolved when Web started kissing him back. Joe brought a hand up and cupped Web’s neck, thumb sliding along his jawbone. Web grabbed Joe’s other wrist as Joe coaxed Web’s mouth open - seriously why was his mouth finally closed now? He groaned as Web’s tongue slid against his and he involuntarily took a step closer.

 

Webster made a quiet noise and fuck if Joe didn’t want to rip other louder sounds out of him in the most primeval way. The blood pounded in his veins, rushing south and fogging up his brain in the most delicious way.

 

A car drove past, startling Joe and causing him to pull back abruptly. He slowly released his grip on Web’s neck and took a step back. Web was still holding onto his wrist. He looked down at it and Web let go.

 

“I’ll-” Joe swallowed thickly. “I’ll see you on Monday, Web.” And he turned and quickly walked away, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

 

That was going to change things.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

Webster stood for a good while on that sidewalk, watching Joe retreat into the darkness before making his way up to his apartment. His mouth still tingled. So this had been a date. He’d been battling with himself all week, trying to figure out if Friday was going to be a date or not and then when Joe wanted to walk him home, he finally let himself decide it was.

 

But they worked together. Closely worked together. Could they keep their work separate from a relationship? Could they leave the work fights at there and move on in their personal life?

 

Webster had never been good at compartmentalizing his life. He was a workaholic, bringing his work home and answering emails after hours and even on his vacations. Relationships had always come second. And had never been with a coworker.

 

And yet…

 

Webster had spent a whole evening with Christenson and Grant. While both their personalities were no where near as volatile as Joe’s, he couldn’t help but compare and they worked out well. Tonight he had seen first hand that they weren’t sick of each other even after a long work day. Now some of that could be attributed to the fact that they didn’t work in the same department. But covers and marketing did work together a lot so maybe...Webster sighed.

 

Joe had told him multiple times that workplace romances had a way of working out in the studio. Since his first day, he’d discovered that Speirs was serious with Lipton and even Winters was seeing one of the board members. Hoobler liked to deliver all the office gossip to Webster during lunch. Lunches that Joe didn’t join. That was good, wasn’t it? Designated time apart?

 

Webster wished that his mind would just stop. He knew he overthought everything. Maybe he should just wait until morning and talk to Joe about it. And figure out if what he wanted was worth the risk. A falling out could cause work life to be miserable.

 

Wait until morning, that was a good plan. But then he remembered that it was Friday and he wouldn’t see Joe until Monday. A whole slew of new questions filled his brain. Should he text him? Call him? Ignore him? God, was he a teenager again?

 

He got out his phone and texted Hoobler. _Do you think tonight was a date night for Joe?_

_Umm, I don’t know...Joe never talks about his personal life with me...I can ask Grant for you if you want…_

 

_No! That’s okay._ Maybe going to Hoob with this was a bad idea. _Forget it. Seriously, forget it._

_Okay, don’t worry, Web. I got your back._

 

_Thanks Hoob!_ No answers there. Webster sighed. He would send a vague text to Joe tomorrow afternoon and then wait to see what Joe did. Leave the ball in his court.

  
Webster sighed again. He really hoped that this wouldn’t end in disaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My outline for this chapter (yes, I have an outline OMG so professional :P) for Web's part literally said: "angst angst angst...much dramatic Webster" So helpful :P


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have officially surpassed the 10 000 word count mark and I am floored...I have never written anything this long before!

Chapter Seven

Joe dropped his bag on the floor and slumped into his seat. He had been dreading this morning all weekend. Right after he had left Webster in front of his building, he’d been filled with regret. Regret that he’d kissed him. Regret that he hadn’t pushed further and ended up with Web pressed up against the building wall with his dick in Joe’s mouth. Fuck. He shouldn't think of that. Having a semi hard-on in the office was not a good idea. But Christ if he didn’t want to think about it. He wanted to thread his fingers through Web’s hair as he pressed him into a mattress. Joe sighed.

However, he shouldn’t have kissed Webster. He shouldn’t have even invited him to pub night because he knew his self control was shot. Joe couldn’t keep his fucking hands off of him. He’d just looked so good, relaxed and the way his throat worked as he drank his beer...not to mention his intoxicating proximity as he sat pressed up against him or stood ridiculously close in front of him while they played darts. And how he blushed.

Joe ran a hand through his hair. He didn’t have time for a relationship. He had his deadlines, his mother, his housework, his bills, just too much. He couldn’t add another person and their baggage onto that list. Something was going to give. He couldn’t risk his job, he couldn’t give up time with his mother, so…

Perhaps a one night stand would clear his head and get him focused again. It had been a long time. The problem was he wanted one David Webster and he knew both of them couldn’t keep it to one night. So he was stuck. Wanting...pathetic.

He scowled and started arranging his desk to his liking to get started on the day’s work. Web walked in and greeted him with a hesitant smile. Shit. He was going to want to talk about it. No, not happening. Joe knew he would talk him into something Joe couldn’t handle right now.

“We’re not talking about it. It’s not going to go anywhere. I’m sorry, it was a mistake and all that shit. Let’s move on, okay?” Joe kept his eyes down on his desk so he wouldn’t see the hurt look on Web’s face. Or worse, a look of indifference.

“Okay,” Webster said and Joe couldn’t tell what emotion coloured his voice. “Do you want to start storyboarding Friday’s work or discuss the Sobel cow scene?”

Joe let out a shaky breath. He half expected - hoped - Web wouldn’t let it go but it seemed that he was letting things move ahead as normal. Well, not exactly normal, Joe needed to pull back, keep his distance.

“I’ll start storyboarding and you can brainstorm some Sobel ideas and in an hour or so we’ll discuss both.”

Webster nodded. “Great. Sounds good.”

Silence fell into the room and Joe couldn’t help but feel guilty. He should have kept his space. Fuck. He shouldn’t have fucking kissed him.

“Did you have a good weekend?”

Joe looked up, startled. “Yeah, sure,” he said curtly. “You?”

“Yeah, it was good.” Webster looked uncomfortable.

Sighing, Joe got up from his desk. “I gotta go talk to Grant about the ad for the Comic Con handouts. I forgot.” Joe knew Web knew he was just running away. But damn if he couldn’t stand the tension. “I’ll be back in a few and we can talk about Sobel.”

“Okay.”

Joe forced himself not to run out of the room. Once in the hall, he picked up his pace and practically flung himself into Grant’s office. “Are you busy right now?”

Grant looked up at him, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Of course you are but you’re going to hear me out anyways,” Joe continued. “I kissed Webster.”

Grant threw his back and groaned. “Joe. Really?”

“I know. I fucked up.” He sat down on Grant’s desk, beside him. Grant punched him in the arm. “Ow,” he exclaimed. “No need to get violent. Fuck.”

Grant glared. “Did he kiss you back?”

“Yeah.”

“Please tell me you didn’t sleep with him.”

“I didn’t sleep with him,” Joe said reproachfully.

“Okay. Why didn’t you?”

“What?”

“Why didn’t you sleep with him?” Grant asked patiently.

Joe groaned and brought his palms up to his temples. “Because we work together?”

Grant shot him an incredulous look. “No. Try again.”

“Because I don’t have time for someone else right now.”

“Have you even told him about your mom?”

“Christ no.” Joe dropped his hands back down to his sides. “That’s established boyfriend material. Not just-met-coworkers-who-I’d-like-to-fuck-and-possibly-become-boyfriends material.”

“So you have thought about it?” Grant looked thoughtful. “Of this actually being something and not a one time thing?”

Joe shot him a look. “You know I haven’t had a one night stand since my ma got sick?”

“I know, I know. But old habits die hard and Web is very much your type. You haven’t had a boyfriend since either.”

Joe scowled.

“Alright, I’m sorry for assuming,” Grant replied. “So what’s the issue then?”

“It’s fucking awkward now is what the issue is.”

“You talked to him about it?”

“Well, kinda,” Joe said guiltily. “I told him it was a mistake.”

Grant sighed. “You told him this morning? Well fuck, Joe. Of course it’s going to be awkward. It’s going to take time. Especially since you’ve known the guy for a week.”

Joe nodded. Grant leaned forwards and shook his shoulder. “Thanks, Chuck.”

“Ooo, first name. You are in a bad way, aren’t you?” Grant frowned. “Maybe you should reconsider. Tell him about your mom, be boyfriends.”

“I can’t.” Joe shook his head. “I can’t handle it.”

Grant looked at him, his face lined with concern.

~*~*~*~*~

Webster entered Winters’ office hesitantly. He hadn’t been here since his first day which had been a month ago.

“Aah, David. Come in. Would you like some coffee?” Winters asked in his soft tone. He was pouring coffee into a mug with little eagles on it. “So how are you settling in?”

“No thank you for the coffee, sir,” smiled Webster. “It’s been a crazy month but I think I’ve settled in.”

“I’ve been hearing good things. Actually,” Winters smiled, “judging on who my source is, great things. I mean, it was like pulling teeth to get him to admit it as Joe’s pride is a very stubborn thing but I was able to interpret his meaning.”

Webster’s stomach fluttered without his permission. He couldn’t help it. He still couldn’t help it.

“How are things working out with Joe?” Winters interrupted Webster’s thoughts. “I know he isn’t the easiest to get along with.”

Webster huffed a laugh. “That’s one way of putting it,” he said dryly. “But in all honesty, sir, working with him isn’t a problem. We’ve got a good system in place right now.”

“I’ve had complaints of noise levels of some of your...discussions,” Winters replied delicately.

“Well, yes, some of our debates get a bit heated but the outcome is always a better result, whether it be the story or the visuals.” A bit heated? Their arguments are practically foreplay with all the  sexual tension. And yet Joe refused to budge. He stays past when Webster leaves to go home, he doesn’t talk to him during lunch, always going to eat with Grant or Talbert. And he hasn’t invited him to drinks with the boys since that first week. Not that Webster has been a hermit since. He has gone out for drinks or to the movies with lots of coworkers. Hoob has made sure that Webster has felt very much a part of the floor community events. Events that Joe has been at but has studiously avoided Webster.

Webster tried not to take it personally. About two weeks ago, Grant had approached him and told him that Joe was going through a rough patch and that he really was sorry for leading him on that pub night. While Webster appreciated Grant telling him, he would have rather had Joe talk to him. And sometimes he felt like Joe was on the brink of bursting and would just explode with all the emotions he was feeling. That’s when the Popeye candy cigarettes would come out and fill the office with the noise of crunching. And Webster would send him out to see someone else, hoping the walk would work off some steam and give Webster some quiet.

But on the whole, Joe had been nothing but overly polite and while not warm, he wasn’t unfriendly like the first day. Certainly nothing to complain to Winters about.

“We get along just fine,” Webster told Winters. He wasn’t sure if the other man believed him. “Is something wrong with our work?”

“Oh no.” Winters shook his head. “This issue is our strongest yet. You two make quite a team. That reminds me.” He walked over to his filing cabinet and opened the top drawer. “I know you have the app but I figured since you are a novelist, this is more your style.” He pulled out a shiny new comic book. “Your first issue, of hopefully many.”

Webster reached out and took the comic book. Christenson’s beautiful cover stared back at him depicting the main square of Aldbourne with paratroopers mingling among civilian women and children. He scanned down to the bottom...there. Illustrated by Joe Liebgott and written by David K. Webster.

“Pretty neat, huh?” asked Winters. Webster looked up at him. He looked proud. Webster felt proud.

“Very,” he agreed. “Thank you. Is there anything else you need, sir?”

Winters shook his head. “No, that will be all, David.”

“Thank you, sir.” Webster waved the book as he turned and left the office.

“Someone looks happy,” Joe said as Webster walked into their room. Webster threw the comic book onto Joe’s desk. “Ho hey! Look at that! A physical copy even.” Joe smoothed out the cover reverently. “Most guys just get the digital copies, but I’m a traditionalist.”

Webster couldn’t help the smile from spreading across his face. “Same.”

Joe snorted. “Of course you are, writer boy. You are entirely too predictable.”

“I’ve got a few surprised in me yet,” he replied. “But yeah, I guess liking physical books comes with the writing territory.” He took back the offered comic book and started flipping through the pages. “Looks like paint and layout did a good job.” He turned the book to show Joe a double page spread.

Joe quickly scanned the pages, a frown wrinkling his brow. “Hey, they actually did. That’s a nice change from them mucking up my ink.”

Webster rolled his eyes. “Ever the perfectionist.”

“Hey.” Joe looked affronted. “Imagine if they had changed one word in one dialogue bubble. A synonym of your original word but it changes the meaning ever so slightly.” He grinned as Webster shuddered. “Paint covering up part of a line on a facial feature is the same thing.”

“Alright, but you are still OCD about your art.”

“Kettle calling the pot black.”

“I believe it’s pot calling the kettle black.”

“My kettle is white.”

“You own a kettle?”

“Webster.”

“Yeah?”

“Get back to work.”


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there is smut in this chapter..the M rating of this fic is very much in play here. If you want to skip the smut, it's in Joe's part but I would suggest reading the beginning of that part and the end cause there is some plot. Web's part is completely smut free.

Chapter Eight

Joe had gotten into work early this morning. He just couldn’t stand being in the apartment a second longer. It had been another sleepless night, staying up with his ma as she vomited up blood every half hour. The rasping shudder of each breathe was a blessing and a curse. He knew how much pain she was in. As soon as Renee had arrived, Joe had practically flown out to the bus. He didn’t start to relax until he was slumped in his office chair and the familiar comforting scents of graphite and paper invaded his senses.

Being alone in the office had always been a comfort. It would be another two hours before the next person arrived. He was alone with only his thoughts for company. And his thoughts were full of his dying mother.

He suddenly couldn’t breathe. His eyes burned and he gasped in some air. Joe brought his hands up and pressed his palms into his eyes, trying to force air into his lungs. He was not going to have a breakdown in the office. Not that he could at home either; his ma might hear.

His breathing was coming easier now but as Joe lowered his hands, he felt the tears start to build. He lowered his head and brought a hand back up to push through his hair. He sighed and then wiped his eyes.

“Oh. I didn’t think anyone would be here.”

Startled, Joe snapped his head up and glared at the intruder. It was Webster. “Why the fuck are you here this early?”

Webster looked concerned and that only caused anger to start bubbling in Joe’s chest. “I wanted to finish up some stuff I didn’t get to yesterday. Are you-” he paused. “Joe, if you want to talk-”

“No. Fuck no, Web. Just leave it.” Joe stood up and walked over to the filing cabinet under the guise of trying to find something.

“Joe, something is obviously not okay. And it might help to talk about it.” Web was at his desk now, shrugging off his jacket and unwrapping his scarf, revealing a crisp white shirt and a charcoal grey waistcoat. Inexplicably, the sight made Joe even more angry.

“Webster, I swear to god if you don’t shut up,” Joe said through gritted teeth.

“This is obviously causing you a lot of pain. Everyone keeps dancing around what is wrong, just saying you have family issues and I don’t think you’ve actually confided in anyone but Grant, maybe?” Webster moved to stand in front of Joe’s path to his drawing table. “Do you think that maybe others might know what you are going through? Others that have family problems?”

Joe stared at him. Really? Of all the pretentious…“You think you know what I’m going through?” His voice was low and dangerous.

“Well I might if you’d actually tell me.”

“Oh sure, Web. I bet you know exactly how it feels to have your sister constantly trying to get you a job because she believes that drawing isn’t a valid career. Or trying to set you up with all her girlfriends because she thinks you being gay is just a phase and you will straighten out if you meet the right girl.” Joe was yelling as he bore down on Webster, wanting to make him see how wrong he was. Webster was now backed up against the drawing table, eyes wide and that fucking mouth open again.

“And,” Joe continued. “You know exactly how it feels to watch your mother-” He stopped himself, clenching his mouth shut. No, he wasn’t going to give Webster the satisfaction of getting what he wanted.

“No, don’t stop. Please tell me,” Webster pleaded. “I want to know. I want to help you.”

Joe punched him in the face, his fist glancing off Webster’s jaw. Webster let out a shout of pain and threw a punch of his own at Joe’s left temple. “Fuck,” Joe swore as he shook his head, his vision slightly blurry.

“Ow.” Webster flexed his fingers of the hand that hit Joe.

Joe blinked away his blurriness and then threw himself at Webster, tackling him against the drawing table. They grappled, each struggling to get the upperhand. The room was silent except for the panting of their breath and the soft thump as Joe thrust Webster up further on the drawing table. Joe had managed to get his forearm up under Webster’s chin, the other hand buried in Web’s hair and his leg had inserted itself between Web’s, ensuring that their bodies were pressed tightly together. Joe could feel each of Web’s fingers as they gripped his hip, dangerously low on his lower back as Web’s other arm was pressed into his spine.

They froze, eyes locked on each other, chests pressing together as they both panted. Suddenly Joe tugged on Webster’s hair and Web let out a low keen before Joe brought their mouths together in a crash. Joe knew this was a terrible idea but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Their kiss was just as violent as their fight had been the minute before and fuck if he could remember a time when he had been as turned on as he was right now.

He lightly bit Web’s bottom lip and felt him press his hips to his. Joe broke off the kiss with a groan. He was glad Webster was in the same predicament as he was. “Fucking hell, Web.” Webster responded by starting to kiss Joe’s neck right under his ear. “Not...fair,” gasped Joe.

“Really?” Webster dragged his nose down and up the tendon of Joe’s neck. “You are saying I’m not fair? What about you?”

Joe playfully shoved Webster down on the table and pressed his hips tight against his, drawing out a sinful moan. He brought his hands up to frame Webster’s face. “Oh just shut up and kiss me.” He dove back in, claiming Web’s mouth. Why had he been denying himself this feeling for the past two months? He moaned as Webster’s hands finally slipped lower and squeezed him closer. “Shit,” Joe growled against Web’s mouth. “I’m going to come in my pants if you keep that up.”

Webster laughed softly and started pressing hot open-mouthed kisses along Joe’s jaw and down his neck as he pushed up on the table with his forearms, freeing a hand to cup Joe’s face. “Well, if you don’t like fighting dirty, you shouldn’t have started this,” he replied in between kisses.

“Well aren’t you actually full of surprises?” Joe grinned, breath hitching as Webster nipped at the juncture of his neck and collarbone. He slid a hand down and between their bodies, palming Webster’s dick over his pants. Web shivered and Joe smirked. “Let’s even the playing field.” He slowly pulled the zipper down and slipped two fingers into the slit of Web’s boxer briefs, carefully stroking a line down Web’s dick.

Fingers clenching Joe’s ass, Webster grunted. “Uh, fuck, Joe.”

“There we go.” Joe wrapped his hand around Web and squeezed gently, ripping out a low moan. “Shit, Web. The noises you make.” He started moving his hand in slow strokes and buried his face in the crook of Web’s neck. He brought his mouth up to Web’s ear and whispered, “They make me so turned on.” Webster shuddered and moaned again. Joe rewarded him by picking up the pace of his strokes.

“God, Joe,” groaned Webster. His hips were moving now so he was thrusting into Joe’s hand. Joe made the circle of his hand tighter and bit at Web’s bottom lip. “Fuck.”

“That’s right,” Joe mumbled. “Come on, writer boy.” Web gasped and Joe licked a strip up Webster’s neck.

“Uh, Joe,” groaned Web and he came over Joe’s hand.

“Fuck that was hot,” Joe said as he gave a few final pumps of Web’s dick. Webster made a noise of agreement. Joe tucked him back into his pants and reached for the baby wipes he kept beside the drawing table to clean the graphite off his hands. As Joe finished throwing a wipe into the garbage, Webster pulled Joe back to the table and pushed him up against it forcefully.

“Alright, writer boy,” Joe smirked. “Show me what you got.” Webster gave him a smile of his own and knelt in front of him as he unbuttoned Joe’s pants. “Shit,” breathed Joe. “Are you kidding me?” Web slowly unzipped his pants and then stared.

“Really? Batman boxers?” Webster asked incredulously.

“Hell yeah. You got a problem with that?” Joe moaned the last part because apparently Web did not mind as he pulled them down to let Joe’s dick free. Webster wrapped his hand around the base and licked the underside vein. “Actually, I don’t care if you do like ‘em or not. Just-” Joe shuddered as Web took him into his mouth. Webster pulled back with an obscene pop.

“Why are you still talking?” Web grinned before he wrapped his lips once more around Joe’s dick, his tongue pressing against the tip.

“Well, fuck, I guess you aren’t, shit, doing a good enough-” Joe threw his head back and gripped the edge of the table tightly, his knuckles turning white as Web brought him back into his throat and swallowed. Joe panted, chest heaving and tried to think of anything but the white hot pleasure that was warming him to the core.

Webster pulled back a bit but kept his jaw loose. He wrapped a hand around Joe’s hip and guided Joe’s hand into his hair. Joe stared down at him. “Are you sure?” Joe managed to gasp out. Webster put both hands on his hips and pulled him forwards so Joe’s dick slid further down his throat. “Oh Christ,” Joe cursed. He slowly began to thrust into Web’s mouth.

Joe ran his hand through Web’s hair and Web’s eyelashes fluttered as he moaned. “Shit, Web.” Joe couldn’t watch. He closed his eyes and muttered, “Captain America. Nineteen forty-one. Jack Kirby. Superman in Action Comics. Nineteen thirty-eight. Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster. Fantastic-” He gasped, gripped Web’s hair harder, and paused before he resumed his movements. “Fantastic Four. Nineteen sixty-one. Jack Kirby and Stan Lee. Wonder Woman. Nineteen...nineteen...oh Christ. Fuck. Web, I-” He came with Web’s throat fluttering around him as he swallowed. He slumped back against the table, breathing heavily like he had just run a marathon. He was vaguely aware of Web putting him back together and then suddenly they were kissing and it was all heat and he was chasing the taste of himself in the corners of Web’s mouth.

Web pulled back and smiled. Joe huffed a laugh and rubbed a knuckle across his tingling lips. “Yep, full of surprises.”

“What were you listing off?”

Joe felt his cheeks burn and he pushed past Web and sat at his desk. He waited for Web to sit down in his own desk. “I was listing first issues from the major comic book characters to distract myself.” He rolled his eyes as Webster looked smug. Although he did earn the right.

The smugness wore off and a look of concern replaced it. “So,” Webster said. “Where does this leave us?”

Joe sighed. “My mother is dying. Lung cancer.” He looked over to see Web freeze, letting the information sink in.

“God, Joe. I’m sorry.” Web looked flustered.

Shaking his head, Joe started flipping through a random pile of paper to have something to do with his hands and so he wouldn’t have to see the look of pity on Webster’s stupidly pretty face. “Don’t worry about it. I won’t drag you into that mess. I know you didn’t sign up for it.”

“Joe, no.”

Joe looked up at him.

“I want to be dragged into it. I want to be here for you.”

Joe searched Web’s eyes and found nothing but the truth in them. “Alright,” he said slowly. “Maybe you could come meet her.”

“I’d like that,” Web said softly. “Tonight?”

“Yeah, tonight.”

Well, there went all of Joe’s carefully laid out plans about not involving another person into his life. But maybe that was okay.

~*~*~*~*~

Webster swallowed uncomfortably in the silence in the elevator of Joe’s building. It had definitely been a weird day. After the mindblowing sex, they had settled into a normal work routine. Webster had kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for Joe to change his mind. Yet he was completely normal. Weird. At lunch, Joe had even gotten up to smack a wet kiss on Webster’s cheek before Webster left to have lunch with Hoob.

He hadn’t told Hoob what had happened. He still couldn’t believe it had happened. He’d had sex in a public place. He would never. Except he had. He forgot and had gotten lost in the fury that was Joe.

Webster got it now. Why Joe had pushed him away. Joe was proud, strong, and didn’t want anyone’s pity. To be willing to take care of his mom in his own home...that couldn’t be cheap. His heart swelled with the knowledge of this other side of Joe. One that he was now a part of. He looked over at him, this wonderful caring guy, who was currently swaying slightly back and forth, hands in his pockets.

“What?”

Webster jumped a bit as Joe broke the silence. “Nothing. Just a lot to take in today.” Joe nodded his agreement and went back to watching the slowly rising floor count.

“I got to-” Joe’s voice cracked and he coughed to clear his throat. “I got to warn you, Web. She took a turn for the worse last night. It’s not looking good.”

Webster moved so his side was pressed up against Joe. “Then I’m glad I’m here.” Joe looked at him and then leaned forwards and kissed him. The kiss was short and sweet - a kiss of comfort. It ended with the ding of the elevator letting them know they had arrived at their floor. Joe reached down and entwined his fingers in Webster’s, leading him into the hall.

Joe stopped with his key in the door and turned to Webster. “I should also say, my place is a mess. Like imagine a really dirty pigsty of a place and times that by five.”

“Okay,” Webster said. He would do everything in his power not to flinch. It was a close call, but he managed it. Because it was a disaster zone in here. He moved into the hallway, stepping over what looked like a bag of trash. How could anyone stand to live like this? Mind you, from what he’d seen over the past months and from what he could guess, Joe hadn’t been doing much living, mostly working and caring for his mom. He needed someone to take care of him.

He moved into the living room while Joe headed down the hallway to, presumably, his mother’s room. Webster sighed as he took in the pile of empty Popeye candy cigarette boxes. Candy cigarettes. Joe gave up smoking because of his mom’s lung cancer. Trying to process all of this information was getting to be a bit much. He started to follow Joe’s path out of the room.

Webster hesitated outside of the door. He heard soft murmuring on the other side and then the door opened to reveal a woman with soft brown hair. She smiled at him and beckoned for him to enter. He nodded, took a breath, and entered.

Immediately, his eyes were drawn to Joe standing beside the bed. He was turned toward the bed’s occupant, whispering hurriedly to her until he looked up at Webster and smiled.  Webster’s heart clenched again as he turned to Mrs. Liebgott and tried to give her a reassuring smile.

It was like she was wasting away into nothingness. A shadow of a woman was left. So very frail. But she was smiling at him and she lifted her hand just barely off the bed and Webster quickly made his way to beside Joe and carefully took her hand in his. Joe nodded to the chair and Web sat so he was closer to her.

“So you are David.” Her voice was raspy but still carried weight in the room. “My Joe thinks you hung the moon.”

“Ma,” implored Joe, sounding like an impudent teenager. Webster smiled and felt his cheeks burn.

“Well,” Webster said softly. “Your son helps make sure all the stars are right in the sky.”

Joe groaned and made his way to the door. “I can’t handle the sappiness of this room right now so I’m going to go talk to Renee who is a serious adult who doesn’t romanticize anything.” Webster could still hear him grumbling down the hall and Renee’s soft laughter.

“David,” Mrs. Liebgott said. “Can you do me a favour?”

“Of course,” he promised. “Anything in my power.”

“Take care of Joe. I know he puts on this strong front,” she paused as Webster barked out a laugh, “but he is vulnerable and he needs someone to help him stand.”

Webster nodded. “I will be there for him even when he can’t stand the sight of me.”

Mrs. Liebgott smirked and Webster almost laughed because it was the same smirk her son gave him most of the time. “I don’t think he’ll ever get tired of the sight of you. Look at those eyes and that jawline.” Webster shifted uncomfortably and opened his mouth to protest. “He said you were very handsome and he was right.” She looked smug and he had no idea what to say.

“Well, thank you, Mrs. Liebgott,” he said and she gave him a fond look.

“I’m glad my Joe finally found someone. I was worried he’d be alone.”

“Joe isn’t alone. He is well loved.” Webster hurried to add, “By everyone, I mean. At work, his friends, they-” He stopped as he caught the mischievous glint in her eye. “Well, I’m sure you know what I mean.”

“I do,” she whispered. “Now go find your boy and give him a big kiss for me.”

“Okay, Mrs. Liebgott,” replied Webster and he leaned over to give her a soft kiss on her cheek. “You take care. I am so pleased to meet you.”

“You too, David.”

Webster gave her one more smile and then he made his way down the hall and into the kitchen where Joe and Renee were quietly talking. As soon as Joe saw Webster, he reached out a hand to lightly grab Renee’s wrist to get her to stop talking. He apologized and then left her to approach Webster.

“Hannah’s coming this weekend,” Joe said as he tilted his head to the door. “She’s driving up tomorrow morning. Should be here by lunch.”

Webster frowned. “Is she staying here?”

Joe snorted. “No. There’s no way she’d be willing to sleep here even if I do clean up the place a bit. She’s staying at a hotel.”

“Well that’ll give you some space then.”

“I think she’s going to have to be here for a bit more than she’d like,” Joe said grimly.

“Well if you need anything, you call me?” Webster meant that last part to be a command but it came out more of a question.

Joe paused and looked at him. “Yeah, alight. If I need you, I’ll call.” They stood awkwardly in the kitchen doorway for a moment.

“I should go,” Webster said reluctantly.

“Yeah,” Joe replied. “But, yeah, you being here was great.”

“Thank you, Joe,” Webster said as they walked to the door. “For letting me in to meet her. She is a wonderful lady.”

A soft warm smile fell on Joe’s face and it smoothed out some of the lines of concern that were forming around his eyes. “She is.”  They got to the door and Webster went to turn the doorknob but stopped when he felt Joe place a hand on his lower back. “Web, I-” Webster looked back at him.  Joe surged forwards and wrapped an arm around Webster’s neck, the other coming up to grip the side of Webster’s jacket. He dropped his head onto Webster’s shoulder and he just sort of slumped against him. Webster immediately hugged him back, drawing him in closer still.

“I’m so fucking glad you met her, “ whispered Joe, his voice muffled. “So fucking glad.”

“Me too,” Webster whispered back, worried if he spoke any louder, the spell would be over and Joe would put his armor back on. He needed this moment. This moment of vulnerability and Webster got to be here for him.

Joe sniffed and drew back. He scanned Webster’s face and and then cupped his neck with a hand and pulled him in for a kiss. It was a desperate kiss, full of tongue and heat and fury. Joe released Webster and took a step back. Webster felt himself pulled forwards into the gravity of Joe and gave him one last firm kiss before turning and leaving.

Webster slowly made his way to the street, deciding in the elevator to walk home instead of calling a cab. He needed the time to think and go over everything that had happened today. But he did know one thing for sure. He would be there for Joe. For whatever he needed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also I recognize that oral sex is sex and therefore protection against STIs is still very much a thing that should be respected, but this is fic and therefore not reality...but stay safe in real life people.
> 
> And can I just say I have over 15 000 words now O_O HOW???


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god! GUESS WHO IS UPDATING??? Whoops...it's been...a very long time...December was the last time? I've been insanely busy...which is a terrible excuse since this chapter was written back in April when I was supervising a literacy test...ah well. I promise I will not take more then half a year to post the last chapter. I've already started writing it even!

Chapter Nine

 

Joe opened up the door with a plastered on smile. He still couldn’t believe that Hannah hadn’t been there when he’d gotten home after work. Surely she knew Renee would have let her in? But no, she’d gone straight to the hotel and waited until he got home.

 

“Joseph,” Hannah greeted him and leaned in to peck his cheek. She brushed past him and Joe took a moment to roll his eyes before following her inside. “I see that you are still living in...squalor...remind me again why you won’t look at Mark’s job offer?”

 

“Hannah.” Joe clenched his teeth and bit back the litany of curse words that were threatening to explode. “Now is really not the time for this.” The sad thing is that Joe really had tried to tidy up some things last night. He’d thrown out the old takeaway containers on the coffee table and had hid some of the dirty dishes in the fridge. Yes, the pile of laundry was still there but fuck if he had time to deal with it. Their mother was dying. Laundry would just have to wait.

 

“So where is she?” demanded Hannah.

 

“Well fuck, I didn’t stash her on the balcony or something. She’s in the master bedroom.”

 

Hannah paused and gripped her hands tightly in front of her, but not before Joe saw the shakiness of her hands. Joe reached out and gripped her shoulder. For all that she put on a strong - too strong - front, this was affecting her. She just didn’t handle being helpless well and so turned to something she thought she could help - Joe.

 

“How is she really?” Hannah whispered.

 

Joe let out a sigh and squeezed her shoulder before letting go. He started down the hall, trusting Hannah to follow when she was ready. He got to the door, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

 

Renee gave him a quick smile and quickly got up from the chair beside the bed and moved to Joe. “Shall I give you some alone time?”

 

“Yeah, thanks Renee. Go take a nap.” Joe flinched. “Actually, since there is nowhere to nap here, why don’t you go out and get a coffee.” He pulled out his wallet and handed her some bills. “My treat.”

 

She nodded sadly and left, passing Hannah in the doorway.

 

“Joseph?” A whisper came from the bed. Joe immediately turned to his mother and took her hand in his.

 

“I’m here, ma,” Joe said softly. “And guess who else?”

 

“David?” A hint of a smirk pulled at her mouth.

 

“What? Ma, no.” Joe rolled his eyes. “It’s your daughter.”

 

Hannah moved beside Joe and tried to smile. “Hi ma. How are you feeling?”

 

“I’ve been better, sweetie.” She coughed and Joe reached down to hoist her pillow up for support. It scared him how easily he could move her. “It’s wonderful to see you.”

 

Hannah swallowed. “Mark and Daniel say hi.”

 

“What has little Daniel been up to?”

 

“Soccer. A lot of soccer.”

 

His mom slowly tilted her head to look at Joe. “Just like you when you were a boy.”

 

“Hopefully that’s the only thing he takes after me for, huh?” Joe smiled as his mom’s eyes crinkled with mirth.

 

Hannah rolled her eyes. “Daniel is not going to become some slob living paycheck to paycheck with no real job.”

 

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” Joe stared at her.

 

“Ma, he needs to get a financially stable job,” Hannah implored.

 

“What’s wrong with the one he has now?” Joe could kiss his mother.

 

“Ma, comic books are not...it’s not…” Hannah trailed off under the stern look Josephine was giving her.

 

“Go on, Hannah,” goaded Joe. “Tell her what else you disapprove about me. Tell her how you think I shouldn’t be seeing David.”

 

“You are seeing someone?” said Hannah.

 

“Why don’t you like David?” asked their mother incredulously.

 

“I don’t - I haven’t met this David. I just think-”

 

“That I should date women,” Joe jumped in.

 

Josephine scoffed. “David is absolutely lovely, Hannah. And really, you shouldn’t care who Joe loves because it’s none of your business and you should want your brother to be happy.” She started coughing and Joe quickly got the water from the bedside table and helped her sit up to drink it.

 

“Thank you, dear. Now, I didn’t raise no homophobic children, so you best start thinking hard before you pursue this further.” Hannah looked ashamed. Joe couldn’t help but feel a bit bad for her. Their mother’s disappointment was always a one way ticket to a guilt trip.

 

“Now enough of this. Tell me more about Daniel.”

 

Satisfied that his sister wouldn’t start verbally attacking him again, Joe turned and slipped out of the room. Not that he didn’t want to hear about his nephew, but he knew that his mother needed time with just Hannah. It would be good for his sister too.

 

Joe went back into the living room and surveyed the room. Might as well work on some of the mess. He shoved off a pile of dirty laundry from the sofa onto the floor. He picked up a pair of sweatpants from the clean pile and folded them, starting a clean stack of clothes in the newly cleaned off cushion.

 

He was halfway through folding when he heard a sniff behind him. He dropped the shirt he was holding and turned to his sister. She sniffed again and swiped angrily at the tears on her cheeks.

 

Joe reached out and pulled her into a hug. She crumpled against him. She mumbled something into his shoulder.

 

“What?” Joe asked.

 

She turned her head to rest her ear on his shoulder. “I didn’t want to believe she was this bad.”

 

Joe squeezed her into him a bit harder. “I know.”

 

“She was just always so strong.”

 

“I remember.”

 

“Do you remember when you got in that fight when your friend Bill called you a son of Abraham?” Hannah chuckled. “Ma was so mad at you for fighting.”

 

“He called our teacher that, saying he was a terrible teacher because he was a Jew. I took offense,” Joe said indignantly.

 

“And Ma didn’t care but we knew she was proud because she gave you extra dessert that night.”

 

Joe laughed. “Best damn ice cream I ever ate.”

 

Hannah pulled back and Joe let her go. “It’s going to be a hard week, isn’t it?”

 

“Yeah,” Joe nodded, “it is.”

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

Webster hadn’t heard from Joe all weekend. He’d wanted to call but as much as he yearned to know what was going on, he knew Joe wouldn’t want him to call. So he refrained. Even though he knew he shouldn’t, Webster couldn’t help but be hopeful that the lack of a phone call meant there wasn’t anything of note that occured during the weekend.

 

He turned into the office. It was empty. He let out the breath of air he’s been subconsciously holding since he’d walked into the hallway. Setting down his bag, Webster sat at his desk, not moving to take out his work. He waited for Joe to arrive so he could figure out how today was going to go.

 

Apparently he didn’t have long to wait as Joe strolled into the room and started setting up his workplace without so much as glancing at Webster. Webster frowned. Joe didn’t look sad or mad - he looked...blank. There was no expression on his face at all and damn if that didn’t terrify Webster.

 

“Hey,” Webster said softly.

 

Joe didn’t stop. He didn’t even acknowledge him. He pulled out a fresh piece of paper, selected a stick of charcoal from his drawer Webster knew was full of varying sizes, consistencies, and makes of charcoal, and started sketching. Webster stood up, his chair slipping back and hitting the filing cabinet with an echoing bang. Joe didn’t stop drawing. Slowly, like he was approaching an injured animal, Webster made his way to Joe’s desk. The drawing taking shape on the page was for today’s storyboarding session they had discussed on Friday.

 

“Joe-” Webster put his hand on Joe’s shoulder and the reaction was almost violent. Joe jerked away from him, slamming his chair sideways to get even further from him.

 

“Don’t,” choked out Joe. “I can’t - just don’t.”

 

“But-”

 

“No, Web.” Joe shook his hand. He suddenly looked really really tired. “Let’s just focus on work.”

 

The nickname was the only reason Webster backed down and returned to his desk. He’d give him some time and try again in an hour.

 

“Fuck,” whispered Joe.

 

“No, Joe, it’s okay.” Webster couldn’t keep the worry and concern from his voice. He knew something happened, his mind jumped to the worst, but most likely outcome. But he needed Joe to say it in his own time.

 

Joe’s shoulders slumped and his face crumpled. Webster’s heart ached for him. He stayed where he was though it was killing him not to reach out. But Joe let out a quick exhale and composed himself, slipping back into that emotionless expression.

 

“Do you want me to go and talk to Winters?”

 

“What?” Joe asked sharply.

 

“Do you want me to go and talk to Winters? Get some time off?”

 

“I…” Joe looked lost. His eyes were glassy with unshed tears and Webster moved to pull him into a hug, Joe’s pride be damned. Joe wrapped his arms around Webster’s waist and buried his face into Webster’s stomach.

 

Webster held him tight, even as he felt his shirt get damp with Joe’s tears. He knew Joe didn’t want any words right now but he hoped Joe knew how sorry he was. Seeing Joe, strong stubborn Joe, so hurt was the absolute worst and he couldn’t help but feel a little lost as well.

 

They stayed like that for a good long time. The office floor was starting to come to life as more people arrived for a day’s work. Finally, Joe pulled back and quickly rubbed all evidence of crying from his face.

 

“I’ll go.” Webster leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to Joe’s mouth. He pulled back slightly and licking his lips, tasting the salt from Joe’s tears. He stopped as he felt Joe’s hand grip the back of his neck and pull him back down. Joe kissed him with a bruising force, his hand slipping into Webster’s curls.

 

Webster kissed back just as fiercely, letting Joe be the one to slowly soften the kiss. Joe finally pulled back, breaking the kiss and his eyes scanned over Webster’s face, taking in all the details.

 

“Thank you, David.” Joe gave him a small smile and Webster felt his chest grow tight. He kissed him softly one more time before standing up and leaving the room.

 

“Hey Webster.”

 

Webster looked up and saw Grant’s smiling face.

 

“Grant,” Webster started and stopped. He knew Grant was the only one in the office that knew the details of Joe’s mother. He didn’t think Joe would want to tell him.

 

“What happened?” Grant could tell something was wrong - probably from Webster’s face.

 

“Joe’s mother, she-”

 

“Shit,” whispered Grant. “Fuck no.” He ran a hand through his hair as Webster nodded. “How’s Joe doing?”

 

“Not...well, as good as can be expected.”

 

“Yeah, for sure. Of course.” Grant looked down the hall.

 

“I’m going to talk to Winters and see if Joe can get some time off.” Talking to Winters seemed to have become his mantra in the past twenty minutes.

 

Grant nodded. “Good idea. I’ll go poke my head in to your office until you get back.”

 

“Thanks Grant.” Webster turned and continued on down the corridor.

 

When he arrived at Winters’ office, Webster was relieved to see that it was void of other people and that Winters was actually there.

 

“Webster, what can I do for you?”asked Winters as Webster entered the room. He had a large layout board on his desk he was examining and he looked up at Webster with a warm smile.

 

“Sir.” Webster stood in front of the desk. “I don’t know how much you know about Joe’s mother…”

 

The smile on Winters’ face fell. “I know enough.”

 

Webster stared for a moment before remembering about Nixon, Winters’ right hand man, who made it his job to know as much as possible about his employees in case it affected the workflow of the company.

 

“She passed away this weekend.”

 

Winters nodded and opened up a drawer in his desk, rifling through some files and pulling out two forms. “I can give you and Joe three days leave. I’m afraid I can’t do more than that, company policy.”

 

“And me, sir?” Webster was a bit confused.

 

Winters looked up at him. “I’m sorry, I thought you and Joe are...involved?”

 

Webster felt heat rush into his cheeks.

 

“I’m pushing policy boundaries a bit but I figure he’ll need help with getting his apartment cleared up and just support in general.” Winters looked at him, his gaze examining in a way that made Webster feel like he was under an x-ray.

 

“Of course, yes. Thank you, sir,” Webster stammered.

 

“I’ll fill in the paper work. You go take Joe home.”

 

With that clear dismissal, Webster turned and left the office.

 

“Okay, pack up. Let’s go to your place,” he announced as he entered their office.

 

Joe was still sitting at his desk but he wasn’t working - he was just twirling the piece of charcoal in his hands, getting smudges all over his long fingers. Grant was leaning against the desk, arms crossed. They both looked up at Webster’s entrance.

 

“What?” asked Joe.

 

“Winters gave us a three day pass. Let’s go clean your apartment.” Webster paused. “Or go back to sleep. I could use a nap.”

 

Joe nodded silently and got up out of his chair. He reached out and squeezed Grant’s arm and Grant patted his hand.

 

They bused back to Joe’s place in silence, Joe gripping Webster’s hand the whole way. He still didn’t let go as they entered his building, rode up the elevator and walked down the hallway to his door.

 

Joe fumbled with his keys, trying to get the lock open. Finally the door opened and they slipped inside, allowing the door to close softly behind them.

 

“Do you want to clean? Or you can sleep while I start?” Webster turned to Joe.

 

“Can…” Joe trailed off.

 

Webster reached out and stroked Joe’s wrist. “Anything.”

 

“Can you come with me to bed? To sleep?”

 

Joe sounded so young and lost. “Of course,” Webster answered softly.

 

Joe led him down to his room. They were quiet as they stripped off their pants, shoes and socks. Joe pulled his t-shirt off and climbed into the bed, throwing off a pile of clothes onto the floor. Gingerly, Webster climbed in too but immediately relaxed as Joe curled into him. He wrapped an arm around him and pulled him even closer.

 

In no time at all, Joe’s breathing evened out and his face relaxed in sleep. Webster let out a sigh, closed his eyes, and allowed sleep to overtake him, keeping that protective arm around Joe, shielding him from the world, if only for a little while.


End file.
